Liquid Smut
by JJJJ12
Summary: Harry has a tendency to walk in on other blokes getting their knobs polished. He decides it's his turn and uses a bit of Felix Felicis to help get the job done. Too bad a lurking Draco Malfoy is always there to derail his plans. One-shot.


Harry walked along the corridors, a pleasant pep in his step. He had just finished a rather exhilarating hour spent flying by himself, enjoying the feel of the wind through his already tousled hair and the excited buzz that only his Firebolt could provide. He had a few more hours before supper, and with any luck, a peaceful evening and Sunday to follow. Presuming, of course, he could convince Hermione to stop bloody nagging him about their pending NEWTs.

However pleased he was with his day, an overwhelming anxiety continued to penetrate every one of Harry's thoughts. This year had been different from the start. Voldemort was back, the Ministry was all over the place, and bloody Draco Malfoy seemed to be lurking around every corner. This combined with his "lessons" with Dumbledore and Hermione's endless push to study was leaving him as pent up as ever. It also forced him to walk around with even more awareness than he had before.

For that reason, when a soft groan seemed to drift into the air along a corridor on the fifth floor, Harry practically jumped out of his trainers. Wand in hand, he followed the noise. As he inched closer and closer to what appeared to be a broom closet, the deep grunts became louder, more distinct, and more unhinged. Summoning his Gryffindor courage, Harry shoved the door open, expecting the worst, and ready to disarm.

He was not, however, expecting to come face to face with a rather red Seamus Finnigan, who appeared busy with a fist full of curly blonde hair, and a goofy smile on his face.

Harry stepped back, his eyes wide. Set on her knees in front of the trouser less Gryffindor boy, Lavender Brown appeared to be enjoying the hard plunge of Seamus' cock into her willing mouth. She let out a throaty moan, one hand wrapped around his pulsing manhood, another gripping his bare arse.

Seamus finally opened his eyes, recognizing the intruder. "Harry? Mate?" He grunted out.

Harry blinked again, before finally shoving his wand into his practice Quidditch robes. "Seamus? What the hell are you doing?"

That earned a smirk from Seamus. He used his hold on Lavender's hair to shove his cock deeper into her willing mouth, eliciting another throaty moan from the girl.

"I dunno Harry. What does it look like I'm doing?"

Harry swallowed, desperately trying to keep his hold on Seamus' eyes. "Seamus, she's dating Ron!"

"I dunno. Right now it looks like she's dating my cock." The Irish boy replied, jutting his hips forward. "I think she's bloody enjoying it too."

Harry scowled before taking a step back. He knew there had to be some sort of… friend rule about messing around with a mate's girl. Well, at least there had to be. He remembered Dudley's fury last summer after walking in on his mate David Reynolds snogging his crush from down the road.

"Seamus," Harry pleaded this time, noticing how much faster his hips moved towards Lavender, still unperturbed by their unexpected guest.

"Look," Seamus grunted out, "She offered and I wasn't declining. Now, if you don't mind…"

Harry shook his head before storming out of the closet, not moments before hearing a loud grunt and the flutter of girlish giggles. He angrily continued down the hallway, kicking and hitting anything that came along his path.

No, he was not bloody angry about Seamus and Lavender. Sure, she was Ron's girl, but he knew that his best mate's interests laid elsewhere. He could not care less about what his housemates were up to in his own time.

No, Harry Potter was angry, no, furious, because he finally had realized his worst nightmare. He had tried to deny it for his previous five years at Hogwarts but this…. This incident had proven he could hide it no more.

Harry Potter had a proclivity for walking in on his mates getting blowjobs. And the poor lad had yet to be on the receiving end of one.

The sixth year kicked a loose piece of parchment as he walked towards his common room.

He was pissed.

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It all started his first year. He remembered the day quite well, mainly because it coincided with his first Quidditch match, and consequently his first Quidditch victory. He remembered the wobbly broomstick, the mouthful that won him the match, the celebration, and the distracted cheers with his team, and the wrong turn he took on the way to the locker rooms. He remembered the brief conversation with Hagrid about the weather, and the comments from McGonagall about how much he flew like his father.

He remembered everything. Including wandering into the locker room about an hour after his teammates had cleared out. Or so he thought. Because before he even got a chance to strip off his robe, a guttural moan grabbed his attention. His curiosity proved to be his downfall. By the time he inched towards the showers, he found himself in clear view of a very naked Oliver Wood, who seemed to be enjoying the ministrations of a very eager Gryffindor fan.

Before Harry could even move in the other direction, Wood had spotted him. He only gave a wink and a thumbs up, before returning to playing with the fan's long hair.

Harry left very red, and very petrified.

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Speaking of being petrified-the second time occurred during Harry's second year. Occasionally his intrusion of Wood in the showers reappeared in his mind, so much so that over the summer he managed to come across some of Uncle Vernon's Muggle tapes with naked people on the front.

Those videos sure taught him a lot. Enough to know exactly what he had saw, and prepared him for the second incident.

This time, Harry had finished a detention with Lockhart, and thankfully managed to walk along the halls without finding another petrified victim. He did, however, manage to walk by a classroom, where the moans of a man bounced of the doorways.

Curious from the sounds, Harry barged into the Charms classroom, beyond surprised to find Ron's older brother, Percy, (a bloody Prefect!) with his trousers around his ankles, and a very timid Penelope Clearwater with a mouth full of man.

Harry stood, mouth agape, as Percy's normally rigid face seemed to contort in pleasure. His own surprise caused a nervous squeak to escape his mouth. The noise jolted Percy to attention, his eyes shooting open and coming in immediate contact with Harry.

"Get out! And don't you dare speak a word of this to Ron or the twins!"

Harry couldn't argue with that. He left immediately.

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His third-year incident was much more creative, although again taking place in the Quidditch locker room. He had again made the mistake of chatting with friends and professors after the match instead of immediately changing.

So, it was probably his fault when he wandered into the showers to discover Angelina Johnson on her knees with not one, but both Weasley twins around her. With her mouth full, she entertained George with the quick speed of her hand, grinning widely at Fred. Both twins encouraged her with crude remarks.

Harry finally had reached the age where he decided it was bloody wonderful.

Before he could turn to leave, satisfied with the scene he had taken a glimpse at, Fred's voice caught him by surprise.

"We'd invite you to join Potter but… Three's a crowd. Besides, she's only got two hands."

George and Fred laughed earnestly, followed by identical grunts as Angelina increased her pace.

Harry left, a bizarre mixture of embarrassment, disappointment, and excitement running through his blood.

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His fourth year had been the bloody year of blowjobs. Harry had seen just about everyone getting their knob polished. From Charlie Weasley and some Irish git at the Quidditch World Cup, to Cedric Diggory and three separate admirers on three separate occasions, to Hagrid and Madame Maxime (he really tried to block that one out of memory), to Viktor Krum and a few admirers in the library after hours, to even Fleur Delacour and her Yule Ball date Roger Davies.

Harry had been the only Tri-Wizard Champion left in the dust.

Two years later and things hadn't changed.

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His fifth year was even more chaotic. Voldemort was back, Cedric was dead, and the last thing on his mind was who was getting their cock sucked. Unfortunately, Merlin had a tendency to fuck around with him. This year was perhaps the year of ruined appetites.

Lucky him got to walk in on Crabbe and Goyle enjoying the ministrations of a Pansy Parkinson, to Argus Filch watching muggle videos (as if he was ever going to get his knob polished), to seeing his own god father and his former Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor enjoying the talents of an aptly talented witch named Nymphadora Tonks.

Upon walking in on that scene. Sirius exclaimed jovially that Harry would soon discover the pleasures of a lady's mouth, all while Tonks' hair turned a bright red, and Professor Lupin hit his best friend upside the head.

Harry bolted out of that room, again scarred for life.

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Then, before his sixth year began, he managed to walk in on a rather personal evening between Bill Weasley and a rather experienced Fleur Delacour.

This time, Fleur purred in excitement and recommended that he find himself a pretty witch to shag. Bill just grunted.

Harry did too.

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So, here he was, a few months into his sixth-year, another blowjob incident to tack onto the list. He had now seen every Weasley son, sans Ron, with their cocks down someone's throat, along with two of his father's best friends, one of his favorite Professors, and a handful of other classmates.

At this point in time, he wasn't even angry. He was disappointed.

What the hell was he doing wrong? Why was everyone getting head except for him?

He was the Chosen One for crying out loud!

Harry managed to make it to his room before collapsing on his bed. He was no longer hungry for dinner. Who would be next? Dean? Bloody Neville? Snape's face flew through Harry's mind, causing him to gag.

Yeah, a good night's sleep was needed. Perhaps Sunday would be better.

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Harry woke up the next morning, still irritated. He didn't bother to get out of bed, and just continued to go through his almost six years of memories to make him sick.

Ron noticed his displeasure as he changed out of his pyjamas. "Don't worry mate. The potions homework won't take too long. Especially with that bloody wonderful book of yours. Besides, Slughorn loves you." Ron scowled at his own mention of Slughorn before stumbling out of the room, his hands running through his bed ridden hair.

Harry groaned inwardly. He had forgotten about the blasted Potions homework. Sure, Ron was right, it wouldn't take long, but he was looking forward to a Sunday of pure relaxation. He sat up in his bed, his mind a fuzzy mix of potions, his awaiting breakfast, and blowjobs.

Until the most wonderful thought occurred to Harry.

There was one surefire way that he could get lucky. In fact, he had a vial of it hidden in his sock drawer. Harry smirked.

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Harry walked along the corridors, a pleasant pep in his step. He had just finished a rather exhilarating hour spent stuffing his face full of food, enjoying the smell of warm bacon and freshly brewed tea and the excited buzz that only the wonderful Felix Felicis could provide.

As soon as he felt that delicious liquid slide down his throat, he knew he was in for a wicked afternoon. Who would the lucky person be? At this rate, Harry couldn't care less who let him shove his cock down their throats. Cho, Ginny, hell, he knew Michael Corner had a thing for blokes. He just wanted some bloody release.

He hummed and swerved around corners, enjoying the buzz the potion provided. That was until a menacing, pale figure appeared in his peripheral view.

Harry scowled.

Bloody Malfoy was on the move.

And again, Merlin was playing tricks on Harry. What was supposed to be enough luck to get his rocks off was turning into an opportunity to figure out what the hell the bloody ferret was up to. Even his aching cock wouldn't let him pass up the opportunity to catch Malfoy doing whatever it was he was doing. And yes, his cock was aching. He had tried to convince himself otherwise, but he had been hard since he walked in on Seamus and Lavender. And with all the stress from Dumbledore's lessons, Voldemort's return, and Hermione's endless studying, a good wank had been in order but continuously rescheduled.

Pushing his hormones aside, Harry descended after Malfoy, watching as the blonde disappeared into the Room of Requirement. As soon as the doors shut, Harry bolted forward, shutting his eyes and summoning the doors himself. When his eyes opened, he was shocked to see the doors in front of him. He had tried this before to no avail. Merlin bless Felix Felicis.

Harry slid inside, taken aback by the vast room filled with mountains of old furniture, discarded items, and god knows what. He had never been in this room before, and was equally as surprised that the Room of Requirement could look like this.

What the hell did Malfoy need that he ended up in a junk yard?

At the thought of the Slytherin boy, he began to maneuver through the piles of junk, desperate to locate his archrival. Of course, out of sheer luck, he managed to locate the boy in the expansive hall, standing next to a large armoire, or cabinet of some sort.

Draco stood in front of the cabinet, his arms hugging his lanky body. He was exhausted, and sick to his stomach, and bloody fed up with what was being asked of him. He had spent weeks now trying to fix this bloody cabinet and to no avail. And as his head told him there was no solution, his stomach lurched at the outcome should that thought be right.

Harry watched the Slytherin boy, admiring how his pale skin and blonde locks contrasted with his black robes.

He blinked. That was a weird thought. Bloody hard cock. He blinked again. Was he referring to Draco or his dick?

Shaking his head angrily, Harry pushed forward, making himself known. Malfoy met his eyes, dually angry and tired.

"Can I help you, Potter?" Draco spit out, the venom evident in his voice.

Harry grabbed his wand and took a cautious step towards Malfoy. "What the hell are you up to, Malfoy?"

Draco just laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know, Potter? Maybe I just come here for shits and giggles."

Harry looked at the cabinet and jerked his head at it. "Why are you standing by that?"

"Where do you think I keep my lovely collection of turtlenecks and dress robes?" Draco rolled his eyes and leaned against the cabinet, praying he was maintaining his cool.

Harry took another step towards Malfoy, raising his wand even higher. Draco scowled and stood up, crossing his arms annoyed.

"Merlin Potter, put the wand away. I have no bloody interest in hurting you. Maybe the Weasel or the Mudblood, but not you. Don't need an army of girls after me."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Malfoy held up his hand to signal he wasn't finished. His eyes left Harry's angry features, and traveled down his second-hand clothes until he noticed something peculiar. Something he rather liked.

"Now now, Potter, aren't you happy to see me?" Malfoy took a step forward, smirking.

Harry growled and took a step back. "Fuck off Malfoy. And if I ever hear you call Hermione that name again, I'll fucking hex your bollocks off."

"Mhm. Is that all, Potter?"

"No. Tell me what you're bloody up to Malfoy. Are you one of them now? Show me your bloody arm."

Malfoy just smirked and took another few steps forward.

"You know," the blonde began, "I've been going about this all wrong. Here I thought that knocking you out on the train would shut you up. Considering that didn't work… I think I have another idea."

Harry scowled and raised his wand higher.

Malfoy just smirked before reaching his hand out and cupping the outline of Harry's aching cock. "I bet I could get you to bloody shut your mouth Potter. I bet you'd fucking love it."

Harry swallowed and kept his wand pointed at Malfoy, albeit his arm shaking slightly.

"Not denying it either. Already getting you to pipe down." With that, Malfoy used a nonverbal spell to drop Harry's trousers.

Malfoy grunted as Harry's hard cock sprang into view. Beautifully shaped with a slight curve, a thick body that began with a tuft of dark pubic hair, an angry head already dripping precum… Oh, how Draco was going to enjoy this.

"Well," the Slytherin boy began, "seems I'm right. You are excited to see me."

On that note, Draco wrapped his hand around Harry's cock, enjoying the jump of surprise the Gryffindor gave as he gripped him. His hand began to move back and forth, his eyes never leaving the ivy green of the boy in front of him.

Rubbing his thumb across the head of Potter's cock and dragging the drops of precum along the rest of the body, Draco just watched as Potter made hissing noises. In fact, Draco wondered if he was speaking Parseltongue.

"That feel good Potter? Would you like my dirty, Slytherin mouth on your cock now?"

Harry let out a grunt of agreement, not even managing to blink as Draco dropped to the ground. Draco let his tongue travel along the length of Harry's cock, before enveloping the entire thing in his mouth.

Bobbing his head back and forth, Draco let the hard expanse of Harry's prick hit the back of his throat. Merlin, there was nothing he loved more than not being able to breath because of a cock down his throat. And Merlin knows how many times he had to suck off Corner, pretending he had the Chosen One choking him.

With a gag, Malfoy pulled his mouth off the cock, sprinkling soft kisses all over the body. This elicited some sexy groans from Harry, who took the opportunity to grab fistfuls of Draco's blonde hair, mimicking Seamus' actions from the previous day.

As Draco drew the engorged prick back into his mouth, both he and Harry knew he wouldn't last much longer. Enthralled by the thought of swallowing anything Harry offered him, Draco continued his pace, Harry's cock sucking all the oxygen out of his lungs.

Harry took one last rough pull of Draco's nearly white hair and let out a magnificent gasp, feeling six years of pent up frustration slide down his arch rival's throat. Completely spent, he took a shaky step backwards, causing Draco to fall back on his bum. He averted his eyes and quickly began to fix his pants.

Malfoy smirked and stood up, gathering bits of cum that had escaped his mouth on his fingertips and drawing the digits back into his mouth. His gaze never left Harry, who too could not look away after realizing what the blonde was doing.

"Mhm. Tastes like liquid gold."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but discovered that nothing would come out. Malfoy smirked again.

"So I've done it. Finally left you bloody speechless."

Malfoy took a step towards Harry and placed his hand on his chest.

"Listen here, Potter. What I'm doing is none of your fucking business. If I so much as see you, or the Weasel, or Mudblood, following me or sticking your noses where they don't belong, next time I see you, I'll do a lot more than swallow your cum."

At that, Malfoy moved towards the exits. The soft patter of Harry's footsteps followed the blonde.

Harry had finally found his voice.

"Is that a threat or a promise, Malfoy?"

Draco didn't bother to turn around. He smirked and continued walking.

"I don't know Potter. You'll have to find out yourself."

Draco disappeared through the doors, leaving Harry in the expansive hall. He took a shaky breath and ran his hands through his hair. And then he smirked.

Professor Slughorn wasn't so bad after all.

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And that's all! I've never written slash before, so I hope I did okay! If enough people like it, I'll write a sequel, possibly two-Harry still needs to walk in on Ron ;) Let me know what you think! - J


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